


One Call Away

by theinksplotch



Series: Reddie Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, Crying, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, M/M, Making Out, Mentioned Pennywise (IT), One Shot, Pining Eddie Kaspbrak, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinksplotch/pseuds/theinksplotch
Summary: From an ask I recieved onmy tumblr:How about for a reddie Prompt, Richie and Eddie are walking and find a missing richie poster and Richie freaks out so eddie comforts him please & thank uPlease enjoy!





	One Call Away

 

  

Sometimes Eddie Kaspbrak found it insulting how utterly _clueless_ his mother could be.

It was annoying, really - the way she treated him like he was made of glass, made him _feel_ like he was made of glass - not a boy, but a delicate figure sitting on her mantel. He _hated_ it.  _Take your medicine Eddie! Mommy knows best, Eddie!_

Of course, Sonya Kaspbrak didn’t know what Eddie went though that summer all those years ago, would _never_ know what it was like to literally face your worst fear, to look death in it's mismatched yellow eyes and see _hunger_.

She didn’t know _Eddie_ was the strong one.

Not because he wanted to be, though. _God,_ sometimes everything felt like _too much_ , too much for one scrawny 16 year old boy to bear. Eddie thought about that empty field more than he cared to admit - the field where he stood, covered in shit and tears and disease; where he _bled,_ where he fucking  _promised_. He wanted to run off into that field, to stand in the middle of it and _scream_ and curse at the universe for making him and his friends so _fucked_ up. He wanted to yell at the world until his voice grew hoarse, until the sun disappeared behind the horizon and it was just him and the darkness.

But he wouldn't - _couldn't_ lose himself just yet. Because his _friends_ needed him.

It happened to the best of them - the fits, the flashbacks, the nightmares. It always happened quick too, like the flip of a switch - _light on. Light off_. The sound of goulashes splashing through a rain puddle, the smell of fire, the rich, dark color of blood - it could send you back, make you remember things you don’t want to. It rarely happened to Eddie anymore, mostly because he busied himself with track and clubs and everything in between.

Others weren’t so lucky.

So when the sharp ring of Eddie’s telephone cut through the silence of his bedroom at nearly 4 am on a cold winter’s night, he groggily snatched up the receiver, knowing exactly who it was.

“Hey, Rich,” he croaked, eyes still sleepy and voice scratchy.

Eddie Kaspbrak's telephone rung nearly every night, and every night, Richie Tozier was on the other line. 

Sometimes it was just after he’d woken up from a nightmare, his voice broken and cracking with the sobs that Eddie _knew_ he was holding back - _Eddie, if It killed me, would you be sad? Christ, would anybody even f_ _ucking care?_  

Those were the worst nights, the nights when Eddie’s heart ached for the boy on the other line. He'd lie in his bed, lips trembling and fingers shaking against the telephone receiver, wishing he wasn't so _goddamned_ far away, fucking _wishing_ Richie was right there beside him, playing with his hair while Eddie made him feel better. 

Some nights Richie just wanted to talk - Eddie would pick up the phone expecting the worst, only to hear a soft voice ask him how many favorite colors he’d had in his lifetime, whether he liked pancakes better than waffles. Richie’s voice was always soft on the phone, he'd noticed. Raw, like he’d shed his protective Trashmouth skin before dialing Eddie’s number.

“How’d ya know it was me?” Richie asked, tired and sarcastic.

Eddie scoffed. “Call it women’s intuition,” he joked sleepily.

The boy's laugh huffed though the telephone, tickling Eddie’s ear. He grinned, easing back into his bed, receiver cradled between his ear and shoulder. Must be one of those good nights - no sadness in Richie’s voice, just soft sleepiness. Good.

It was quiet for a while, Eddie staring up at the plastic stars stuck to his ceiling, knowing Richie was on the other line doing the same, mess of curls fanning out on his pillow, in dark waves. They both had them, the little green stars - constellations they’d put up one summer day back when they were around 10. It had taken forever to put Eddie’s up - he wouldn’t let Richie jump on his bed to stick ‘em, didn’t want the boy's old Converse dirtying up his sheets. So they’d used a couple phone books stacked on top of a kitchen chair instead. Eddie could remember it so vividly, the way Richie grinned down at him proudly after sticking the last star up. _Trashmouth Tozier_ \- the nuisance of Ms. Washington's 4th grade class, just some snot nosed kid with gaps in his grin and huge dorky glasses. And he was smiling at _Eddie_ \- It was the moment Eddie Kaspbrak realized he was a little bit in love with him. Love in it's purest form - the feeling of warmth blanketing him, like he was safe. Sometimes, Eddie thought he was a little bit in love with all the Losers, could see himself marrying every single one of them out of pure platonic adoration, but he knew it had always been different with Richie -  _fiercer_. Richie made Eddie _ache_ for something, made him dream of crooked smiles and loud laughter, cigarette smoke drifting from chapped lips and big freckled hands and…and warm pale skin flushed pink beneath Eddie’s tongue, breath hot an heavy and _sweet._

“Hey-” Richie’s voice crackled through the phone. “What’re ya doing right now?”

“If this is your way of trying to ease me into phone sex -"

The boy guffawed on the other end. “No, I just…do you wanna maybe…go somewhere?”

Eddie’s grip tightened on the receiver. He could hear Richie’s breathing on the other line, _feel_ it almost - in his hair, against his skin...He shivered. “Right…now?“ 

At 4 am. Just him and Richie. _Alone together_.

“Yeah,” Richie whispered, and it almost felt like he was there with Eddie in that moment, like it was the two of them in his room, speaking into the darkness.

His eyes shifted from his ceiling to his bedroom door, calculating. His mother would have a bird if she caught him sneaking out…then again, she was probably in the prime of one of her Ambien induced slumbers right about now - it wouldn’t be hard to just up and walk out the front door…

“I’ll meet you in front of my house in 10,” he whispered back.

It didn't take long for Eddie to trade his pajamas for a pair of jeans and a pale yellow crewneck jumper, throwing on a knit sweater and pulling a warm red beanie over his bed head for extra warmth before lacing up his sneakers and slipping out the front door with all the stealth of 007 himself. By the time his watch beeped softly from beneath the warmth of his sweaters, telling him 10 minutes was up, Eddie was planted on the curb just in front of 4820, Washington Street, waiting. He quite liked sitting here in his empty neighborhood, houses quiet and porch lights off - the cold nipping at his cheeks and flushing his face.  _Its comforting_ , he thinks, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. Eddie gazed up at the night sky through clear hazel eyes, watching his breath drift up towards the stars in soft white wisps, like smoke slipping from his lips. He pulled his beanie further down over his ears, brushing the stray curls sticking out from under the hem out of his eyes.

“What’s cookin’, Spaghetti?” somebody called out, breaking the silence. Eddie lowered his gaze to the lanky shadow walking towards him in the darkness of the night. "See what I did there?” Richie asked with a crooked grin, nose red beneath the bridge of his glasses, an unlit cig effortlessly hanging from his chapped lips. Something in Eddie tugged when he saw the boy - he wasn’t entirely sure why. It felt like a dream, almost - seeing Richie walking towards him in the early morning darkness, sneakers kicking up gravel, wind in his thick dark curls. All those times Eddie lie awake in his room, listening to the other boy talk - telephone clutched in his hand, just _aching_ to reach out and touch, and _feel_ Richie _\- to run his hands through his hair, press his lips to the freckled skin of his cheeks, tell him sweet things and wipe the tears away, to make him feel wanted and loved and happy._

And now he was right here, in the flesh, and the only thing Eddie could say was -

“Why aren't you wearing a sweater? You're gonna freeze out here, you idiot.”

He wasn’t dressed appropriately for the winter - then again, when did Richie Tozier ever bother to wear more than a T-shirt and a pair of jeans with holey knees, anyways?

Richie sighed. “Oh, Eds. You really do know how to sweep a girl off her feet!"

Eddie pulled off his knit sweater, rolling his eyes. “God, why did I agree to this?”

He tossed his jumper to Richie, who caught it with an amused smile on his face. “Just take it. It's probably a little small, but it’ll keep you from catching a cold, I guess,” he mumbled, toeing the curb with his sneaker.

“Gee, thanks, Eds,” Richie winked at him before pulling the cigarrete out of his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. He pulled the jumper over his head, the dark green material making his skin look almost white in comparison. It was a bit small, sleeves stopping just short of his wrists, but anything was better than that thin Sex Pistols T-shirt he came in.

“Hey look, it fits,” he tugged the sweater down over his torso. “ _Exacta-mundo_ \- How do I look?“ Richie stood before him in the snug sweater, freckled cheeks flushed red from the cold, thick hair sticking up where the wind blew it, eyes tired and soft behind his glasses.

_Perfect._

“Like you’re stretching out my favorite sweater, _Fonzie_ ,” Eddie said instead.

“Hey, that’s not the only thing of yours I can stretch out, Spaghetti Man,” Richie said cheekily, patting him on the shoulder with surprisingly warm hands. Eddie briefly wondered what those hands would feel like directly on his skin, calloused and warm against the flat of his stomach, the crook of his neck…

_Fuck._

“Beep beep, asshole,“ Eddie choked out, feeling _warm warm warm_ despite the cold wind whipping his clothes.

Richie laughed. “Ain’t it just the cutest thing when you get all flustered,” he cooed, pressing a hard kiss to Eddie's face and rustling the hair beneath his beanie before spinning around and walking leisurely back the way he’d come. Eddie watched him go in confusion, fingers grazing the cheek still burning with Richie’s stupid kiss.

“Hey, short-stack - you comin’ or what?” Richie called back after a few seconds, pulling the cig out from behind his and sticking it back in its place between his lips.

“Uh, y-yeah,” Eddie said, hurrying to catch up with the boy and his long legs. “So, where are we going anyways?” he asked, watching as Richie pulled his lighter out of the pocket of his jeans - it was a nice lighter, one of those pretty metal ones with a lid and _everything_. He took care of that lighter like Bill took care of his car - polishing it so the metal shined, changing the fluid inside whenever it ran out. He probably took better care of it than he did himself - Richie was a complete mess most of the time, hair un-brushed and clothes rumpled, but the lighter always remained polished in his pocket. He tossed it from hand to hand as they walked, sleek metal casing catching the light of the street lamps. “Dunno,” he said thoughtfully. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Eddie replied slowly. “But where are we supposed to get food at this hour?”

Richie flicked open his lighter and brought the flame to his cig before taking a long drag. “Denny’s,” he said finally, smoke filtering out of his mouth as he spoke. Denny’s was one of the only chain restaurants in Derry - it was located just across the street from the arcade on Jenson and Main. Not really a long walk, and it was open 24 hours. “My treat, of course,“ Richie added sweetly. “I would never expect you to pay for the meal on our _first date.”_

Eddie nearly tripped over his own feet. “First…first date?” he gulped.

“Sure,” Richie said, kicking a stray rock on the sidewalk with the toe of his shoe. “I mean, you and me, a romantic dinner, passionate love making in the Denny’s bathroom: First date,” he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette. Eddie watched his pretty pale cheeks hollow around the cig - there was that ache again, the one that started in his heart and slowly made its way throughout the rest of his body, like a disease. Of _course_ it was a fuckin’ joke, everything was always a joke - _Hardy-har-har,_ Richie Gets Off A Good One.

_Play along if you know what’s good for you, Kaspbrak._

“Denny’s bathroom sex at 4 am _\- how romantic,_ ” Eddie mused, looking up at the night sky once again. He thought about the stars in his room once again - he liked those stars better, maybe because Richie had put them there. Ha. Richie had  _literally_ hung the stars in the sky. He yanked his beanie off and shoved it in his pocket, liking the cold wind in his hair. “Is this how you treat all the girls, Trashmouth?”

“Nah, that’s _convenient_ store restroom sex,” Richie joked. “Afterwards I buy her a bag of peanut m &m’s and we say our farewells. But you Eds, my love? You get to eat _first_. ‘Cause you’re _special_.” 

Eddie wished that were true.

“Plus the only thing the ladies _really_ have an appetite for his my di -”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie groaned, elbowing the boy next to him in annoyance.

“Heh, right. Sorry,” Richie said, suddenly sounding a bit nervous. “Actually, speaking of beep beep Richie, I kind have to tell you somethin’.”

“What’s it got to do with beep beep Richie?” Eddie asked, scuffing his sneakers on the sidewalk as he walked.

“Well, nothin’ actually,” Richie rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, dropping the cig and putting it out with the toe of his sneaker after one last drag. “I’ve just been trying to find a way bring it up naturally, but I guess this is a good time as any to uh…tell you this thing that I needed to, you know, tell y-”

“Richie, you’re rambling,” Eddie interrupted, stopping them both in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Am I? Ha. Didn't notice," Richie wouldn't look at him. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, magnified eyes squinting down at their sneakers like he was searching for sonthing. "You know what? Nevermind. It's fuckin' dumb anyways," Richie shrugged, flicking open the lid of his lighter with lightning quick _chink chink chink '_ s. Eddie frowned, turning to face the taller boy - wind swift and cold against his back - and placed a hand in the middle of Richie's chest, just below where his heart was. “You can tell me anything,” he said softly, craning his neck to look Richie in the eyes. “You gotta know that by now, right?“

Richie peered down at him with soft, dark eyes, mouth hanging slightly open in shock. He was warm against the palm of Eddie’s hand, the small boy fought the urge to fall into Richie’s embrace, burry his face into his chest. “Right,” Richie whispered, licking his lips nervously. Eddie could nearly feel the boy’s heartbeat through his clothes, the soft thud against his shaking fingers.

Richie turned away suddenly, continuing to walk. Eddie followed him, cheeks burning and hand still alive and thumping with the memory of Richie’s heartbeat. “Alrighty,” Richie mumbled, tossing his lighter back and forth between his hands again. “Here goes…”

Silence followed his words - Eddie waited patiently for the boy to continue, frowning when nothing but the sound of wind whistling past him and the soft hooting of an owl in the distance met his ears. He watched Richie stop walking abruptly, watched the lighter he cared for so much clatter from his hands to the ground, bouncing off the sidewalk and landing to their left in the middle of the street.

Suddenly the night didn't feel so comforting anymore. Eddie could almost feel it, the change in the air, something dark, something familiar… He didn’t like it, didn’t like the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up, didn’t like the glazed look in Richie’s eyes as he stared blankly at something across the street. “R-Richie?”

The boy didn’t answer, just continued to eerily stare off into the distance. Eddie followed his gaze to the streetlamp across from them. There was something stuck to the its pole, fluttering and crinkling against the wind…

 _A single sheet of paper_.

“Richie - ”

Before Eddie knew it, the lanky boy was stepping off the curb and heading across the street, making a beeline for the lamppost. Eddie hurried after him on short legs, making a grab for the forgotten lighter and shoving it in his pocket. He just made it across in time to see Richie snatch the paper off of the pole. “Richie, what the hell are you…?”

That’s when he saw it.

This paper in Richie’s hands wasn’t just any paper.

It was a missing person’s sheet.

It was old, yellowed with age and crumpled beyond belief. Eddie figured it was the same one they'd seen all those years ago back in the house on Neibolt Street. 

 _Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier,_ it said. _Age 13. Missing since July 4th, 1989_. There was a picture too - an out of date, printed portrait of none other that 13 year old Trashmouth himself. Eddie remembered that flyer all too well…

_Bill why does it say I’m missing why am I fucking missing?_

His breath hitched, something like dread settling heavily in his gut.

Then in the darkness of the night, a single sound punctured the thick slab of silence surrounding them.

 _A giggle_.

The giggle turned into a chortle, and _that_ turned into a full blown laugh, loud and eerie amongst the wind and the silent houses.

And it was all coming from the boy next to him.

Richie Tozier was doubled over in fits of laughter, the piece of paper crumpling in his white-knuckled grip.

“Richie…” Eddie said worriedly, grabbing his arm. He didn’t show any sign of hearing him, just kept on laughing that strange, empty laugh, clutching the paper harder and harder until it ripped in half.

“Richie _please_ ,” Eddie begged. “Why are you…?” Eddie didn’t even know what to say. What the hell was going on?

“No, no, no - Its okay, Eds,” Richie said in a giggle. “It’s…It’s _funny_ ‘cause its _true_!” He wheezed, patting him on the back.

“What’s true?”

“This. This fucking piece of paper that I see every night in my dreams.” He laughed again, harsher this time - it sent waves of panic shocking through Eddie’s body. He…he didn’t know how to help him this time. They weren’t on the telephone anymore, this was _real life_ \- Richie needed him, and…and Eddie couldn’t even form a fucking sentence, _fuck_.

“Its all true,” Richie said suddenly, laugh dying in his throat. Eddie stared up at him, at the blank, sorrowful look on his face. The silence was almost too much now, swallowing them whole.

“Richie,” he said helplessly. “You’re not missing. I’m looking at you right now.”

“But ya don’t get it, Eds,” The boy replied quietly, staring own at the ripped halves of paper in his hands. Richie scoffed, letting the ripped up pieces loose to flutter away in the wind. Eddie didn't want to think about how the missing person's sheet had gotten there, just wanted it to _go_ , to flutter out of their lives for _good_.

“I’m not missing," Richie said, voice heavy. "But...but it would be better if I was.”

And Eddie’s heart _shattered_.

Richie sighed, carding a hand through his hair. “I mean, think about it, Eds - my dad hasn’t worked in _months_ , my mom wouldn’t know how if she wanted to - they barely have enough money to put dinner on the table for two, much less three. And…it wouldn’t make much a difference to them if I was gone, anyways. They’re so stressed about money all the time they hardly have time to pay attention to little ol’ me. Maybe if..." he sighed. " _Maybe_ if I'd died, it woulda done old Mags and Went a favor," he finished, looking absolutely miserable, and Eddie thought it hurt more to see that look on Richie's face than any beating from a bully.

"Please don't say things like that, Rich," Eddie whispered. Holy fuck.

“Why not?" Richie asked, angry and sad. "Its all fucking true, isn't it? Sometimes I just wish I wasn’t… _Me_ , ya know? I…I don’t wanna _be_ like this, Eddie,” he said, his voice shuddering. A fat tear squeezed out the corner of his eye when he looked away, and all Eddie could do was watch it roll own his cheek in horror.

“Like what?” he asked softly, clutching himself, _jesus._

“Like - like _me_ ,” Richie sniffled. “You know sometimes I hear myself talk and…and I just wish I could beep beep Richie myself. Nothin’ but _bullshit_ ever comes out of my mouth and I hate it, _I fuckin’ hate it_. Its like…like I know nobody gives a fuck about what I’m saying, so I talk louder because…because I just want someone to _care_ about me!“ 

 _I care about you!_ Eddie wanted to scream. _I care, you…_

“You _asshole_ ,” he said quietly, face hot and itchy with anger.

Richie squinted at him through tear filled eyes behind foggy glasses. “What?”

“Listen here, jackass,” Eddie didn’t realize he was crying until he felt the tears on his cheeks, salty and hot. “If you think it would be better for everybody if you were gone then…” He took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself down, trying to _stop shaking, holy fuck_.

“Eds,” Richie started.

“ _No_ , you listen to me!” Eddie sobbed. “If you think for _one second_ that nobody gives a fuck, then you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought!” He was crying now, ugly and snot-nosed and _shaking_ like the mess he was. "What am I then Richie? What have I been doing for the past 3 years, talking on the phone, _trying_ to make you realize that  _I care_ , you asshole! I give so many fucks about you, it makes me _hurt_ sometimes. If…” he sniffled. “If you were gone…who would give me ridiculous nicknames? Who would call me in the middle of the night to talk and cry to me when they're sad? Who…who would make me laugh with terrible jokes and dorky impressions…and make me feel things that sometimes I can’t even explain?”

He looked up at the boy he loved, red faced and snot-nosed, but  _beautiful_ nonetheless. 

“Who would I love, Richie?”

That’s when Richie Tozier kissed him.

It was a desperate kiss, salty with tears from both boys and warm in the cold of the night. Richie kissed like he needed it, _needed_ to feel Eddie’s mouth on his or he’d die. Eddie could feel him sobbing still, body shaking and tears wetting his face, so he pulled him closer, wrapped his arms around Richie’s shoulders and kissed him deeper, slower - all openmouthed and heavy. This is what he wanted - he wanted to make Richie feel loved and _God_ , he loved him so much, _loved him so much it hurt._

_Maybe I’ll never stop aching for Richie Tozier. Even with his tongue in my mouth and his hands in my hair.  
_

Eddie thought that was okay.

Eventually, the shaking stopped and they pulled apart, Eddie sniffling and still maybe crying a little. He held Richie’s face in his hands, wiping the tears and - _ugh_ \- snot away with the sleeves of his yellow sweater. Richie’s eyes were closed, face warm with embarrassment - Eddie knew he hated crying in front of people. He kissed the tip of Richie's nose. “You’re tired,” he said.

Richie opened his eyes an flashed him a watery smile. “You _looove_ me,” he said in response.

“Oh, God,” Eddie blushed, rolling his eyes and sniffling. “ _Shut up_.”

“Nope,” Richie jumped forward, pressing his lips to Eddie’s for a quick kiss. “‘Cause....Well 'cause I love _you_ , Eds," he said softly, sweetly - as if they were in the bedrooms talking on the phone, still. "I was gonna tell you tonight, but I guess you beat me to punch, huh?"

Eddie grinned. “I should hope you love me,” the small boy replied, feeling _warm warm warm_. “Your DNA is all inside my mouth now.”

“That’s not the only thing that could be inside your mouth, baby,” Richie teased, wriggling his eyebrows.

Eddie pushed his face away, grinning. “Can it, Trashmouth.” Richie chuckled. He leaned away, yawning loudly. Eddie watched him, admiring the soft curve of his lips, the stray freckles on his chin.

“You know what?” he said. “I’m not really that hungry after all. Kinda tired, actually…”

“Want me to walk ya home, Eds, my love?” Richie asked.

_Eds, my love._

“Uh…yeah. But,” he said. “Why don’t you…stay?”

Richie paused. “Like, sleepover?”

Eddie blushed. He imagined him and Richie, ten years from now, sharing a bed for _real -_ Richie wouldn’t have to call him when he was sad anymore. He could just…turn over and wake him up, and Eddie would blink awake and kiss him an _hold_ him - phone sitting untouched on the bed side table...

Maybe they'd never get away from the summer of '89. Maybe that thing in the sewers was still out there, still watching them, waiting for the right time to come out.

But Eddie figured everything would be okay, so long as he had his friends, had _Richie_. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, smiling hopefully.

Richie grinned, and _God, Eddie loved him_.

“I’d love to, Eds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me how you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you thought :)


End file.
